Altogether Everywhere
by ahblg
Summary: Jack has had a hard go-around these past 17 years, and his forced move to Lima, Ohio seems like the icing on the cake. And then he meets Kurt.
1. Prologue

Kurt strolled down the shady street. He was, as always, dressed in the height of fashion, and his designer boots made soft thumping noises on the warm concrete. And though a small smile played at the edges of his lips in lieu of such a beautiful day, Kurt felt terribly lonely. To be openly gay amongst a community mostly made of homophobes isn't easy, especially when you're the only openly gay person within a decade of your own age in the entire town. But still, the warm sun was pleasant on his soft skin and he hummed gently to himself.

Kurt aimlessly wondered what it was like to be kissed. He imagined soft lips against his, a gentle hand in his hair. He longed to feel a warm body against his. It was at this exact moment that Jack Newton stepped from the stuffy house of his new foster parents, walked a little ways down the street, lit a cigarette he had hidden cleverly in the waist of his jeans, and shut his eyes with a satisfied sigh.

As Kurt rounded the corner, his breath caught in his throat. A slow stream of grey smoke slid from between lips parted ever so slightly. The most beautiful ones he had ever seen. It floated away with the breeze, and Kurt watched this same soft wind work it's way between the wispy strands of the man's auburn hair. His eyes were shut gently, and his head tilted back ever so slightly. He had beautifully feminine features- a delicate jaw line, long and slender fingers, and a slight frame on which hung a tight white long sleeved thermal shirt and tight jeans. The man was tall- much taller than him- and seemed at the same time to be both his peer and his elder. He looked young, but the way he held himself suggested that he grew up long before most kids their age. Kurt was certain he had never seen anything so divine in his entire life, and he could feel his pulse in his ears. He jumped when the lovely creature opened his eyes and graced him with a quick glance, and then a double take. Kurt melted with the grin he had been given, and then felt a rush of sudden panic. He had never felt this way before, emotionally, however a familiar feeling lingered in his suddenly painfully tight jeans. He turned and ran home, shaking with confusion and utter disbelief.

Jack was not used to this. Curfew? Rules? A cigarette ban, for gods sake? They were, he supposed, normal things for a normal seventeen year old like everyone seemed to want him to be. But the plain fact was that he wasn't a normal seventeen year old. He hadn't been normal for his age for a very long time. However, instead of compensating for what he had been through, the psychologists and the caregivers chose to instead pretend none of it ever happened and pick up where they though he should be at his age. Even if that meant back-tracking. Trying to forget his past was much more painful than remembering it.

He hadn't wanted to come here, but these people were very, very, very distant relatives and the only ones he had. They had agreed to take him for a year until he was legally of age and could go back home to Yorkshire. The flight to America had been long but relatively painless given the large stack of books he stuffed into his small carry-on. And now here he was, sitting on a overstuffed couch the living room of overly-sympathetic relatives in Lima, Ohio. He managed to excuse himself, having been deliberately stone-faced since meeting them (though not rude- that was unnecessary) to ensure that they would get the gist of his hermit-like personality, and would accept the fact that he liked- and very much needed- a lot of time to himself. And so he wandered down the suburban street in the warm sunlight, and lit a precious cigarette.

He stood for a moment, enjoying the breeze, and then got the odd sense he was being watched. He slid his eyes open and glanced briefly to his left. What he saw caused a double take. A boy about his age, give or take a year, stood not far off down the side walk, watching him intently. He smiled at the boy. He was a refreshing sight for sore eyes. A young and feminine looking face with large eyes and high cheekbones was set beneath a head of perfectly trimmed and tamed hair. He wondered self-consciously how windswept his own usually well-kept hair must have been. The boy was impeccably dressed in designer jeans, sharp looking leather boots and a silky looking blue button up that Jack would have very much liked to have felt against his skin.

Suddenly, the boy turned and ran. Jack watched him run around the corner, and felt his cheeks flush. Maybe Lima wouldn't be so bad after all.


	2. Chapter 1

Jack shifted his weight uncomfortably. He had never once set even a toe into public school, let alone _American _public school. And yet here he was, dressed in dark jeans, a simple white button up and a form-fitting black blazer. He wanted to ensure that he would look good for his first day to school. He didn't know what his peers would be like, but he hoped he would meet a few people he could have a decent conversation with.

This, unfortunately, did not appear to be the case. When he stepped through the large metal doors the first thing said to him was, "Get the fuck out of Ohio you British faggot!" His eyes widened and he made eye contact with the culprit. A large boy with greasy blonde hair, a football jersey, and two slutty looking cheerleaders. He was caught off guard but didn't show it. Instead he adjusted himself and coolly walked to the large sign indicating where the main office was. The thing that most surprised him was that without having even said a word, somehow the ogre who shouted at him knew he was British. He shuddered with the thought of being their gossip toy without having even seen any of them before.

He smiled as he walked up to the main desk and greeted the plump woman kindly.

"Oh, hello, you must be Jack. Welcome to William McKinley!"

"Yes Ma'am, thank you." he said in a soft, thickly accented voice.

"Now, here's your class schedule," the woman said, handing him a half sheet of paper, an ugly shade of pink, "and if you need any thing else at all, just let me know alright?" Jack nodded, and stood awkwardly before asking for a map of the school. "Oh, of course, here you are." she said, handing him a photocopied map. The text and lines bled together, but he could make out the room numbers well enough. "Enjoy your classes!" the woman yelled as Jack stepped back out into the hallway. Right after, a loud bell rang, informing him, with dread, that he was already late for his first class.

Of course, his professor understood and his first two classes went by smoothly. He wasn't great at math, but he kept up to pace in algebra, and he decidedly found biology very interesting, though he struggled to follow along. Before long, the bell rang for lunch, and he followed the hordes of hungry teenagers to the large room that smelled strongly of cheap food and mildew. He had little appetite, and instead sat at the end of a nearly empty table in one of the far corners of the cafeteria. At the other end sat a boy in a wheelchair and a young Asian girl with streaks in her hair. Jack sat and pulled a thick book out of his messenger back, and opened up _Infinite Jest_ to the place where he last left off.

He was, of course, heckled during lunch by neighboring jocks and the like, but when they continually got no response from him they quickly lost interest and he was generally left alone for the rest of the lunch period.

Little did he know, however, that a pair of eyes watched him from across the room intently for almost the entire hour. When Kurt first saw him sitting there reading, he nearly dropped his tray full of food which Mercedes swiftly saved from destruction.

"Kurt what on earth are you doing?" she asked angrily, setting down both of their trays while he stood frozen in his spot. She followed his gaze to where Jack sat. A knowing smile spread across her face. She grabbed Kurt's arm and pulled him out of his daze. He sat down next to her, attempting to steal looks in Jack's direction without her noticing. "So," Mercedes started, "How about the new kid, huh?" This caused Kurt to look down at his food as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"What about him?"

"I've heard he's British." Kurt blushed. A man with an accent. How sexy.

"Is that so? That's cool, I guess. I don't really know much about him." He said, feigning innocence. "I don't even know his name."

"It's Jack. Jack Newton." Said Rachel and she and Jesse sat down at their table. "And from what I can tell from the search Jesse and I just ran on his name, the boy can sing."

"How do you know?" Kurt asked, surprised.

"His name came up with dozens of hits about award winning show choirs and the like. And he is always listed as the male lead. From what I gather, his father was an equally talented singer and coached his son from a young age. Isn't that beautiful? A father and son, sharing the love of music!

"We have to get him to audition." she concluded. Everyone shared their agreement, save Kurt, who was watching him intently. _Jack _he thought to himself. _What a wonderful name._

Just as he was day dreaming about Jack, the bell rang, indicating that it was time to head to English class.

As the bell rang, Jack quickly finished his paragraph and stuck his bookmark between the thin starchy pages. He took out his schedule and smiled, seeing that English was his next subject. This though pleased him greatly. He loved reading and writing, and could ask for nothing more in life than a good classic novel warm in his hands. Well, maybe a cigarette too.

He walked in the room with his head down, not looking at anyone, and chose a seat toward the back of the class. Only when he did a quick scan of the room did he notice the large eyes and flushed face of the endearing boy he saw the other day on his street. Jack nodded slightly in recognition, and the boy smiled back at him, shyly. They both started when the door shut hard and their professor greeted the class.

"Today," the young looking man started, "we are going to have a group seminar on _Wuthering Heights_. Which you were all supposed to have finished for today." A round of groans spread across the room. Jack's face, however, lit up like the sun. _Wuthering Heights _was his absolute favorite book. "Also, this will act as your exam on the novel. So I hope you have all finished the book. Now please, adjust your desks into a circle. I will grade you on participation." It was then that the professor noticed Jack and said, "Also, we have a new student today. Jack Newton. Jack, feel free to sit this out, I know you haven't been here for the reading." Jacks heart sank. He wanted nothing more to participate. He watched as the other students sat in a circle and started discussing the novel.

"I don't even know what this stupid book was about, and I read the whole thing!" One girl exclaimed.

"I know, it was so boring. And Heathcliff just sounds like a jerk."

"How could such a mean person possibly love someone?" And on and on they went until Jack was about to his breaking point. How could none of them have understood the story whatsoever? Finally, after a comment about how Catherine traveled in time and became young again, or something along those lines, Jack cleared his throat, and spoke.

"Don't any of you understand? It's the ultimate love story. Everything Heathcliff did was for Catherine. He loved her so purely and truly, and when she abandoned him for Edgar, his life was torn apart and became littered with hate and the overwhelming need for revenge. But still, it all revolved around her. Love isn't always something beautiful, you know. If treated wrongly it can tear lives to shreds, and that is precisely what it did to Heathcliff. He tortured, imprisoned, forced innocents to marry for his own gain, and in general stopped at nothing to fill the void that was left when his love deserted him. And yet, in the end, after his love dies and begins to haunt his nights, his anger and thirst for revenge slowly unravels. He realizes the man he's become and comes to terms with himself, although not in a completely sane manner. And then he dies. And with corresponding halves of their coffins removed, finally he and Catherine get to simply be in love. And their bodies disintegrate into one. And life and love goes on. Sure, it's no fairy tale, but it's better to accept love for all that it is than to pretend only the good parts are there." Everyone in the room was silent. They stared at Jack, surprised by his sudden outburst.

"Well, Jack," the professor started, "you're most certainly getting an A."


	3. Chapter 2

**Just a short note; in response to HearMeCalling, I very much appreciate your input. But patience, you will see his flaws soon enough! I know what I'm doing. Also, thanks for any and all reviews.**

As the bell rang, Jack quickly followed the boy, who rushed out of the room as swiftly as he could. He managed to catch up with him, just as he slid into a classroom followed by the couple he had shared a table with earlier, two cheerleaders, and a pregnant girl. Jack watched them file in, and then stood outside of the door for a moment before turning to leave. But he stopped in his tracks when he heard the beginning of a wonderfully familiar melody flow from the room. A womans voice sang _I'm Not That Girl_ from Wicked- one of his favorites. He relished in the sweet sound, and then realized that this had to have been the school's show choir.

He longed to go in and join them, but knew better. He had sworn not to sing again after what he had been through. But before he was able to force himself to walk away, an overly-confident looking girl rushed past him into the room muttering something about being late and how unprofessional she must look. But she stopped in her tracks just inside the door and stepped backwards to face Jack.

"Jack Newton, right?" she said shortly. He nodded, and she shot out her hand. "Rachel Berry. You and I have a lot in common, judging from those videos I saw of your performance at last year's national championship competition in London. You deserved to win." And before he had a chance to respond, Jack was ushered into the room and announced. "Members of New Directions, meet Jack Newton. Jack, meet William McKinley's glee club, New Directions!"

Jack stumbled through a greeting, his palms sweaty. A man with perfectly molded hair greeted him. "Welcome to our meeting Jack, I'm Will Schuester. Do you have something you could sing for us- a kind of audition? I can give you a few days if you want to prepare." And it was then that Jack panicked.

"I… I can't do this." he stuttered, as he had flashbacks to the years of his life dedicated to becoming the performer his father failed to be. The pain, both physical and mental, and the complete and utter shame of the things he and his father had done haunted him much like Catherine had haunted Heathcliff. Tears welled in his eyes and he bolted out of the door, nearly tripping over his own normally graceful feet.

Kurt watched Jack crumble under pressure, and felt a rush of worry spread through his veins. What would cause such a panic? Instinctively, he jumped up and ran after Jack, determined to fix whatever was broken inside of him.

He found him in a deserted stairwell, sobbing silently into his folded arms. Suddenly, Kurt realized that everything Jack did was a ruse- an attempt to prove to everyone that he was alright and capable of taking care of himself. But something was tearing him up inside, and Kurt could see that now. He approached him quietly and sat down next to him on the cold linoleum stair.He gently set his hand on his shoulder, and frowned when Jack jumped several inches. They made eye contact, and Kurt's heart broke when he realized that this seemingly perfect man was falling apart. What on earth had happened to him before he came to William McKinley?

"Don't cry Jack." he said gently, wiping a tear from an already drenched cheek. "I'm here for you."

"What is your name?" Jack asked, catching him off guard.

"Kurt." he responded. Jack smiled.

"Thank you, Kurt."


	4. Chapter 3

Jack and Kurt walked slowly through the graveyard toward Ferguson Reservoir. It had been a week since Jack's breakdown at school, and he and Kurt hadn't spoken since the incident. But when Kurt approached him after the bell had rung and asked if he would like to go for a walk, Jack didn't think twice before complying. As they strolled past the graves, neither of them spoke more than a word or two. Jack occasionally took long drags on his cigarette, immediately lighting another each time one was exhausted. Jack turned as Kurt stopped at a polished stone grave.

"This is my mother's grave." he said matter-of-factly, but with a touch of sadness in his voice. Jack nodded silently as he watched him, silhouetted by the late afternoon sun.

"My mothers is thousands of miles away." he responded after a few moments. "And my father's too." Kurt smiled a gentle smile, acknowledging their shared grief. But Jack's face darkened as he added, "If I were at his grave right now, I would spit on it." He turned and continued walking, with a highly confused Kurt in his wake. When they made it to the reservoir, they sat down side by side. Jack had run out of cigarettes, and he now ground his teeth together gently. Kurt could hear him in their silence, and it put him on edge.

"Jack, what did he do to you?" he said, as he watched soft strands of hair and their subsequent shadows play across Jack's sharp, angular features. Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms as he turned toward Kurt. When he opened his eyes again, they made eye contact, and Kurt could just briefly see Jack's pupils shrink, as he was facing the neon orange sun.

"It's not a nice story, Kurt. And it's certainly one you don't need to know." He said, an edge to his normally angelic voice. He stood up and started walking back toward town, but Kurt caught up with him and grabbed his arm.

"Jack, it helps to talk about things. Trust me, I know. Please trust me." And Jack wanted to, so very badly. Which was the precise reason he didn't want Kurt to know about his past. The things that had been done to him, the things that he was forced to do, and the marks left by them would nauseate and horrify Kurt- he just knew it. He would finally open up to someone willingly, and then Kurt would start to look at him with that same nervous glance he constantly received from his relatives. He would start catching Kurt- and probably everyone else in their school, since gossip was what high school survived on- watching him while he thought he wasn't looking and then avert his eyes hastily when he finally realized it.

Throughout the internal debate Jack was having, Kurt grew impatient. He decided he needed to do something that would distract Jack from his thoughts. So Kurt did the only thing he could think of to do. He turned Jack to face him, shut his eyes tight, and forcibly pressed their lips together. They both stood there frigidly for a moment before relaxing into the kiss. It was a first for Kurt and the first that meant anything for Jack. As they intensified the kiss, Kurt gently slid his hands around Jack's thin waist. They lingered on his lower back, and Kurt could feel the warmth of his skin through his cotton shirt. As Jack began kissing his neck, Kurt felt a rush of boldness, and began to slide his hands beneath Jack's shirt. As he slid them slowly upwards, he felt what seemed to be raised lines on his back before Jack swiftly pushed him away, with a look of horror on his face.

"What is on you?" Kurt said, still flustered from their kissing and horribly confused. Jack didn't respond. Instead he turned from his companion and bolted down the street as fast as he could, with the hint of tears welling in his eyes. He was filled with relief when he realized his guardians weren't home and ran up the stairs to his room, two at a time. He shut and locked his door behind him before slamming his fists against the wall.

"God dammit!" he shouted through gritted teeth. He took several deep breaths before moving to the large mirror on top of his dresser. He lifted his shirt over his head and scanned his eyes over his pale, hairless chest. He then turned around, craning his neck to his left to look at the dozens of scars that coated his back. He hung his head and hunched his shoulders as he remembered the countless reasons his drunken father had come up with to justify taking a belt to his only son. Hit the high F, do better on your tests, don't be late again, you ruined the crucial dance step, you're a failure, don't disobey me, I'm your father and I will do what I please with you. But it wasn't more than two years after Jack's mother died that his father stopped bothering to make up with excuses. He also turned abusive in a whole new way.

He was lonely after she died, and the alcohol and his son's severe likeness to his dead wife clouded his judgment. Several nights a week, he would stumble into Jacks room, violating him in ways that no one deserves to experience. The only thing his perverted desires didn't reign over was his desire to see his son succeed in being the performer he failed to be. And on the nights he wasn't molesting his son, he was ruthlessly training him, beating him if he made any slight mistake. And so this was Jack's life for the nine years after his mother's death, before he was rescued by karma finally catching up to his father. He passed out at the wheel after a night of extra heavy drinking and drove through a guard rail into oncoming traffic. He died instantly, and when officials found the 16 year old Jack, bruised and bloodied and wary of every living soul, they easily got him to tell them all about the horrors he had experienced since he was seven years old by just giving him a small taste of the kindness and attention he so badly longed for. As so there he was, seemingly saved from hell, but still tortured by the lasting effects of his misfortune. What person in their right mind would want someone so… damaged?


	5. Chapter 4

Jack woke the next morning earlier than usual. His bed was in front of the window, and the wall it faced was lit with a square of cold, grey morning light. He heard the gentle drumming of rain on the glass and watched the larger-than-life sized shadows drizzle down the white plaster. He slid out of bed, and he wrapped his hands around his bare chest as he walked toward his bathroom. He ran a shower, and turned it on so hot that when he stepped into the water, the temperature difference caught his breath in his throat. He felt wonderfully relaxed as the pungent scent of his shampoo and the steam filled the bathroom and his sinuses. He grudgingly stepped out of the shower after a half an hour or so, knowing that he not only had to get ready for school, but also that his guardians would be angry if he used all the hot water. He rubbed his hair vigorously with a small towel, ran a comb through it and decided he didn't care enough today to do anything else to tame it. He pulled on black slacks, a dark grey tailored button up with a spread collar, and finally black Giorgio Brutini boots. He had inherited quite a bit of money from his father, and had little but clothes to spend it on. The coat he pulled on was a long woolen pea coat. It fastened with thick straps across his chest, and had a removable hood that he buttoned on, due to the rain. With plenty of time to spare, Jack decided to walk to school. The rain reminded him of home, and it put him in a better mood than he would have been, had the day been clear. He stopped at a convenience store and, having managed to convince the shopkeeper than he was of age, bought two packs of Winston cigarettes. As he walked down the street he saw people running through the downpour toward their cars. He watched women yelling at their children as they jumped in puddles, and business men and women rush into offices with newspapers over their heads. Cars sped past him, their headlights shining with a slimy film of filth and rain.

And as he saw all of these things, he suddenly felt like an outsider- an alien. He felt a rush of loneliness, and for the first time since he died, he missed his father. Not as the man he was, but as the man he should have been. He also thought of Kurt, and how much he wished that he could tell him everything and still be confident that he would want him regardless. As he reached the school, he slowly walked into the building. He heard his classmates talking, joking, laughing, kissing and fighting. He felt disconnected from them- almost inhuman though he knew that was not true. He longed to feel the warmth that his peers seemed to feel simply by living. But he didn't.

As Kurt watched him walk through the hall, a glazed look in his eyes, he wanted to hold him and tell him how much he cared for him. But it was as though there was a barrier around him. Jack had put up a line of defense thicker and more foreboding than the Berlin Wall. Kurt didn't know why he had run away the previous day, but he knew that he was a man who had dangerously detached himself from society. He longed to heal him- to sew up the tears in his psyche. And he felt furious with himself as he realized that the fact that Jack was so badly damaged gave him an even greater appeal than the sophisticated and confident looking man he first appeared to be. Kurt felt horrible, having realized now that he didn't want to be there for Jack out of pure generosity, but instead out of a perverted desire to feel like a hero. _But what's wrong with that_, he argued to himself. _Why can't I help him and get something out of it at the same time?_ Kurt felt confused and frustrated, and for the rest of the day he was in a horribly sour mood.

As Jack stepped into English class, he avoided looking at Kurt and sat in the back corner of the room. He sat silently through the entire period, and was relieved when the bell finally rang. But, as he made toward the main doors of the school, a small woman with large eyes stopped him.

"Jack?" the woman said in a high-pitched voice. She was well kept, and not a single hair was out of place. Jack nodded at her and she motioned her into a room with glass walls. "I'm Miss. Pillsbury. I'm the guidance counselor here. Would you mind if we spoke for a little while?" Jack remained silent, but nodded again, sitting in the chair in front of her desk. "I know why you came here to Lima, Jack." she started.

"How?" he said quickly, his cheeks flushing.

"It's my job to know Jack. And I also heard about what happened in Glee Club last week." Jack sat back into the chair as she spoke, and began to tune her out. He had been to countless counselors, and she was sure to be no different. He took in his surroundings. The office was impeccably organized. Books coated the wall behind her, and Jack spotted many he had read, and even more that looked interesting.

Miss. Pillsbury noticed the fact that his eyes were seemingly focusing on anywhere but her own, and she cleared her throat loudly. "Are you listening, Jack?" she asked.

"Honestly, Miss. Pillsbury, though I appreciate what you are trying to do, I'm really sick of counselors. None have ever really been of any use and I don't expect you will be any different. So no, I'm not listening to you." He said, overly politely, frustrated with the fact that she called him out.

"I had said, Jack, that I know what happened to you must be harder to deal with than anything I can imagine. But you can't let it ruin the things that make you, well, you. I've seen videos of you singing, and you are really wonderful. You make it look so effortless. And the boy on that stage seems a lot happier than the one sitting in front of me." Jack sighed. He really was tired of the cheesy motivational speeches he constantly received. _But_, he thought, _she's right. I've never been happy anywhere than on stage._ "That is why," she concluded, "I think you should audition for glee. This week's assignment that Mr. Schuester has given the club is to sing a song by your personal favorite artist. You don't have to do it, but I think that it would be good for you. The things you've been through are awful Jack, but no one will ever again expect you to be flawless in a flawed world. Your father wanted too much from both himself and from you. But all I ask is that you be yourself and do what makes you happy."

Jack watched her intently. She seemed sincere, and he knew that if he did audition, he would not only be closer to Kurt, but closer to what he missed most in the world- singing. He decided to do as Miss Pillsbury had asked and audition, and he knew right away what he was going to sing. "Alright, I'll audition." He said more gently than when he previously addressed her.

She grinned widely before saying, "I'll let Will know. The club meets tomorrow- do you remember the room?" Jack nodded before standing up and motioning to leave.

"Thank you, Miss. Pillsbury." he added before heading home to practice.


	6. Chapter 5

When Jack wasn't in lunch the next day, Kurt spent the rest of the day worrying about where he was. He wondered if he had decided not to come back to school after what had happened at the reservoir. When he rounded the corner into glee club, the sight of Jack standing confidently at the front of the room warranted a gasp from him, and the subsequent dropping of his school bag. He fumbled to pick it up as Puck, who was close on his heels, nearly ran into him from behind before spewing a few insults and slumping into his chair. Kurt flushed as he looked up to find Jack watching him. His eyes widened one he realized what he was wearing.

He had never seen anyone in school other than himself dare to wear something so… flamboyant. He couldn't help the smile that crept across his face. He looked like he had stepped out of the seventies. His pants were a cherry red, and skin tight with attached suspenders. Tucked into them was a flowy blue silk button up with a white diamond pattern. Several of the top buttons were undone, and Jack's pale skin was a stark contrast against his outfit. To finish it off, he had a blue polka-dotted scarf tied around his neck. His hair was feathered, and over-the-top makeup coated his face. His lips matched his pants, and he had a hint of pink blush on his high cheeks. A smile played at his lips as everyone stared at him.

Kurt suddenly realized he was just standing in the middle of the room, and rushed over to his seat. Mr. Schuester cleared his throat and began to speak.

"So, guys, we have Jack here who would like to audition for us. He informed me that he is staying on our theme of our favorite musicians. And I think he did a great job of… well… getting into character! So, without further adieu, take it away Jack."

Jack nodded before turning to the band and motioning to them to begin. They kicked in, with an edgy, energetic sound. The electric guitar wailed and Jack began to sing.

_Hey man, oh leave me alone you know  
Hey man, oh Henry, get off the phone, I gotta  
Hey man, I gotta straighten my face  
This mellow thighed chick just put my spine out of place!_

_Hey man, my schooldays insane  
Hey man, my work's down the drain  
Hey man, well she's a total blam-blam  
She said she had to squeeze it but she... and then she..._

Everyone sat up as Jack moved to the music. Kurt felt dumb for not realizing who Jack was imitating.

_Oh don't lean on me man, cause you can't afford the ticket  
I'm back on Suffragette City  
Oh don't lean on me man  
Cause you ain't got time to check it  
You know my Suffragette City  
Is outta sight...she's all right_

Jack felt that familiar rush of adrenaline surging through his veins. He was home.

_Hey man, Henry, don't be unkind, go away  
Hey man, I can't take you this time, no way  
Hey man, droogie don't crash here  
There's only room for one and here she comes, here she comes_

Kurt shifted awkwardly. Jack was so sexy, and Kurt was so deprived. He felt his body heating up as he watched Jack's hips gyrate.

_Oh don't lean on me man, cause you can't afford the ticket  
I'm back on Suffragette City  
Oh don't lean on me man  
Cause you ain't got time to check it  
You know my Suffragette City  
Is outta sight...she's all right!_

_Oh hit me! _

Jack forgot about his audience- even Kurt- as he lost himself into the screaming guitar solo. He picked up his vocals again in perfect time.

_Oh don't lean on me man, cause you can't afford the ticket  
I'm back on Suffragette City  
Oh don't lean on me man  
Cause you ain't got time to check it  
You know my Suffragette City  
Is outta sight...she's all right  
Suffragette City!_

_oh Suffragette City!  
I'm back on Suffragette City  
I'm back on Suffragette City  
Ooh! Suffragette city__  
Ooh! Suffragette City  
Hoo-hah! Suffragette City,  
Hoo-hah! Suffragette City,  
Hoo-hah!  
Suffragette_

The music cut out as Jack fell to his knees and belted

_Ohhh, Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am!_

The band picked up again, pulsing with energy.

_Oh Suffragette City! Oh Suffragette City!  
Quite all Right  
Suffragette City!  
Too fine  
Oh Suffragette City,  
ooh, a Suffragette City  
Oh, my Suffragette City,  
oh my Suffragette City  
Oh, Suffragette City!_

_Suffragette! _

Jack stood panting with his eyes closed as the room burst into applause.

"I for one think theatrics is just as important at singing!" he heard Rachel say through the clapping. His body was sleek with sweat and his skin felt hot with energy. His mind was racing and he felt as though he could run a marathon. He hadn't felt this good in… well, ever. He had a seemingly permanent smile on his face as the applause settled and Mr. Schuester welcomed him into the club. It was then that he looked at Kurt, whose eyes bore through him with admiration and desire.

For the rest of the hour, while the club practiced, Kurt and Jack couldn't keep their eyes off of each other. As everyone dispersed, Kurt grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him to the closest deserted stairwell. He kissed him desperately and he lustfully pushed their hips together. Jack forced him against the wall, placing his hands on either side of his face. Jack gasped for air as Kurt licked and nipped at the exposed skin of his neck. He could feel Kurt hard against his own erection, and feverishly wished they were in a more private location. He knew it couldn't go any further than a makeout session in a school stairwell, and the two of them were rudely reminded of this when Jesse St. James and Rachel Berry pushed through the door. Jack pulled away quickly, and both of them were red from both excitement and embarrassment. Jesse and Rachel just stared at them, shocked, and Jack and Kurt awkwardly stepped past them back into the main hall of the school.

Just as the door shut behind them, they both started laughing hysterically. As they regained their composure, they started to walk down the hallway toward the exit.

"By the way," Kurt started, smirking. "I like the outfit."

"Thanks. Too bad you'll never see it again." Jack responded.

"Why!" Kurt asked, a pout playing on his lips.

"Because, Kurt, theres a reason David Bowie started doing coke. He had to burn the images of himself in outfits like this from his memory. Do you want me to start doing coke?" Kurt laughed. He was thrilled to see Jack so happy. And joking! For once he wasn't afraid to let his guard down. He decided it wasn't yet time to ask him again what had happened in his past, or why he had run away that day at the reservoir. But it was a start.

"Then why did you wear it in the first place?"

"Because Bowie's Ziggy Stardust persona revolutionized rock music, and the album holds the 1 spot on my list of favorite albums. And that was the assignment, was it not?"

"Yes, but no one got into it quite as much as you."

"Well, Bowie was all about being different. He thrived on it."

**By the way, the song is Suffragette City by David Bowie.**


	7. Chapter 6

Kurt waited nervously on the corner of the street, and was about to flee the scene of the crime as Jack stepped out of the busy liquor store with a bottle of gin, a two liter of tonic and a whole lemon.

"Relax, Kurt." Jack said teasingly. "I won't get you into any trouble." It was a humid Saturday evening, and the two of them had traveled to Columbus for the day. Kurt had never done anything quite as reckless as lying to his father about a sleepover with Mercedes and underage drinking, but the thrill of the situation, and of being with Jack, felt liberating. Jack got two cups of ice, and a plastic knife from a nearby convenience store and sat on a broken bench in a otherwise fairly well-kept park. Jack poured them both a glass of the cheap liquor. As he took a large gulp from his glass, Kurt took a hesitant sip and shuddered at the bitter taste. Jack laughed. "I didn't think you'd like it." he said, pulling another bottle from the bag. He dumped out Kurts cup and poured him a large amount of Arbor Mist wine. This was much more kind on Kurts taste buds, and he felt buzzed after just his first glass.

After the two boys were successfully drunk, they wandered hand-in-hand through the busy downtown streets. Jack felt warm and comfortable, happy to be inebriated and free for the first time in a very, very long time. Their shirts stuck to their backs, and they were lost in their carelessness. The lights of the city were bright with the weekend nightlife. Fellow lovers and wasted partiers were flooding the streets around them. Columbus is a well known city for the GLBT community, and Kurt felt thrilled to finally not feel as though he stood out in the crowd. Indeed, they blended nicely with the yuppies and the wealthy fashionistas, and neither boys had been so carefree in their entire lives. Soon, Kurt was drunk enough to stomach gin, and Jack had to give the bottle to a wino on the street to stop him from taking swig after swig of the potent alcohol.

They had parked at a park-and-ride on the outskirts of the city, and while handling Kurt- who in his life had never been so drunk- Jack managed to situate himself and Kurt on the correct bus back to the car. He knew neither of them could possibly drive, so (after comforting Kurt as all the alcohol he had ingested met the concrete of the parking lot), Jack helped him up into the trunk of his SUV, climbed in after him, and they both drifted to sleep.

When they woke, the mid-day sun was glaring in their eyes, and Mercedes was calling Kurt's phone for the sixth time that hour. Kurt groaned in pain as her loud, stern voice attacked his throbbing ear drums.

"Where the hell are you guys!" she screamed. Even Jack's head hammered harder as he heard her muffled yells.

"Mercedes, please, I beg you, not so loud!" Kurt half begged and half moaned.

"Kurt your dad has called me twice asking when you're going to be home! I can't keep lying to him!" The color drained from Kurt's face. He had completely forgotten about his plans to have breakfast with his father. He had assured him the previous evening that he would be home by eleven, and he sat up, horrified as he looked at the clock.

"Shit!" he exclaimed. "It's 1:30 in the afternoon! Jack, we have to go. Now. Mercedes, if he calls again, tell him I'm showering and I'll be home in an hour and a half or so." With that, he promptly shut his phone and pulled Jack, who was still half asleep into the passenger seat. They hit the highway after stopping for coffee, and Jack was more or less awake. They were both suffering from terrible hangovers, but the coffee made them feel at least slightly better. Jack rolled down the window and lit a cigarette as they drove in a comfortable silence back toward Lima.

"What did you tell your parents you were doing last night?" Kurt asked, curiously. He had never even wondered until that moment. Jack shrugged.

"I told them I was going to Columbus with a friend."

"And they just… let you?"

"Reluctantly, yes. They're not my parents, by the way. My parents are both six-feet-under." Both boys were silent for a minute.

"I'm sorry," Kurt started. "I didn't mean to suggest that they were replacing them."

"Don't worry about it. In fact, I wish they were my parents. They've certainly acted like it more than my real ones. Although that's not really fair to my mom, I bet she would have if she could have. But I wish that my father was even a fraction of the man my foster father is." Kurt nodded in understanding. He wished that Jack would open up and tell him more about his past, but he didn't want to push him like he did before. But then he realized that Jack couldn't run away when they were plowing down the highway at ninety miles per hour. As the butt of Jack's cigarette flew out the window and the glass slid safely into it's rubber slot, Kurt decided to test his boundaries.

"Jack?" he said.

"Hm?"

"Tell me about your father." Jack didn't respond right away. Instead, he turned and watched Kurt watch the road. He looked so young, and Jack felt somewhat guilty for corrupting him the previous night. His shirt was wrinkled and he smelled strongly of gin and bad wine. Jack closed his eyes and leaned his head back with a heavy sigh. He ran his hand slowly through his hair as he started to tell Kurt the story of his father, and what he had done. Kurt stayed surprisingly silent as Jack told him about the belt, how the water ran red every time he showered, and how he couldn't erase the images from his mind. He told him about performing and losing at the national championships, and how truly horrifying that night had been. About the first night his father was bold enough to explore his son's body, and the first night it escalated to more than his hands and his mouth. He stressed how painful it was to do anything the following day. He spoke for 45 minutes- but no mater how graphic he got, neither of the boys flinched. He also told him about his leisure time. He felt horrible as he discussed the boys he would fuck and the drugs he would do. He tried to explain to Kurt that they were nothing more than an escape. And as he finally reached the day his father died, and the following months of STD tests, therapists, hospitals and orphanages, Kurt began to pass familiar highway junctions.

Just as Jack finished with his story, Kurt pulled into his driveway and placed his car in park. He left it running as he relaxed in his seat. He stared out of his window for a moment, before turning toward Jack who was watching him intently. Jack saw tears gleaming at the corners of his eyes, but they never fell. They stared in silence before Jack finally unbuckled his seatbelt and motioned to exit the car. Kurt watched him step out of the door and climb the stairs to his porch. Not once as he walked through his front door did Jack turn to look at Kurt. His humiliation and sadness prohibited him from doing so. And Kurt was glad he didn't, or else he would see the tears finally falling down his face.


	8. Chapter 7

**Just a quick note. I really, really, really hated the last chapter. It made me sick re-reading it today, and I don't know what I was thinking last night. So here is the replacement. **

Jack wasn't surprised at Kurt's reaction. But the weight of his rejection pushed Jack into a deep depression. Kurt walked past him in the halls at school the next day without so much as a nod, but he didn't blame him. He knew was damaged and, he admitted to himself, he couldn't possibly love someone as much as Kurt needed to be loved in his state. And so Jack wondered through his days in a zombie-like trance, paying no attention to his peers or his studies. Halfway through English class- in which he forced himself not to look toward Kurt, he remembered that he had glee that day. He smiled, remembering how good he had felt while he sang _Suffragette City, _but he had no desire to go to the club that day. Instead, as school let out, he walked aimlessly across the town, watching all the people go about their day. He wondered why he continued to try to have a normal life- he knew he would never be normal. He longed to be back home in Yorkshire. He didn't miss his father or the torture he put him through, but he missed his freedom and the his excuse for turning to desperate measures to escape reality. He couldn't remember half of his younger teenage years simply because he was so coked out. He didn't know the names of his fuck buddies, or even whether they were male or female. He had left this part out of his story to Kurt- there was no need to add fuel to the fire. He knew he was gay- the thought of a woman's reproductive organs disgusted him- but he didn't think that would have mattered to himself after snorting a few lines.

He hugged himself with his arms as he cursed his past self. _Why did it have to be this way? _He wondered. He wallowed in his self pity as he moved his feet one after another in a steady beat. And then he thought of his parents, and what had come of them. His mind wandered to their rotting bodies covered by dirt and worms and grass fertilizer. His musings took an existential turn as he walked past billboards advertising useless technology and chemical enhanced meat. He saw twelve year old girls with designer bags and sunglasses. His anger swelled at the bumper of a car with a sticker reading m_an+woman=marriage_, and he marveled at how people weren't jumping off bridges left and right in such a fucked up world. He felt like Meursault, as he wondered if the meaning of life really was simply death. He didn't consider suicide. _What's the point of doing it yourself, _he thought, _if it's going to happen on it's own anyway? Why go through the trouble?_ He thought about Kurt and how much he truly wanted him. How innocent and lovely he was in the evening sun in the graveyard and how warm and affectionate he was in the bright lights of downtown Columbus.

He didn't love him. He thought maybe he could love him, but he didn't yet. It took more than a few beautiful moments for Jack to give someone the chance to say that they are loved by him. In fact, he didn't think he had ever loved anyone in his entire life. He was too young when she died to love his mother, and he didn't love his father for obvious reasons. _But what does it mean to love someone anyway?_ he wondered. _Does love even really exist?_ _And if it does, why do human beings bother with it in the first place?_ As he lit a cigarette to try to quiet his thoughts, he asked himself whether this thought process was nothing more than a coping mechanism to deal with Kurt's repulsion at his past. But even if it was, he didn't think it mattered anyway. That didn't make any of his thoughts any less true. If Kurt had embraced his past and accepted him, he would still die one day. There would still be vanity and consumerism and hatred in the world. He still would have smoked the cigarette he was currently smoking. Only one small factor in the trillions and trillions that made up his life; past, present and future; would have changed. He had simply realized it sooner.

And with the acceptance of this, Jack decided to try to rush back to make the end of Glee Club. After all, if he was to be alive for an unknown amount of time, he might as well enjoy it, right?


End file.
